The Agent and The Villain
by Epic Insanity
Summary: Elizabeth looked at Red. Directly. Softly, but deeply. She knew change couldn't come now. Not with Red and his list of names. Already he was fully inserted in the hours between waking up and collapsing in bed. A day without the Concierge of Crime slipping a quirky anecdote into conversation or staring with eyes full of answers she couldn't decipher-that she couldn't fathom.
1. Bad Business

**I received some pretty upbeat reviews for Half-Truths so I thought I'd continue with some more Lizzington. Totally digging it. I feel like every song I've listened to lately can relate to them. And I've been listening to an old country CD, so you _know_ I've got it bad. I have OCD and they are an itch I can't scratch. Their relationship needs to be canonized or I'll go nuts.**

 **I struggle with writing chapter fics because I gradually lose the excitement I get when beginning them. (Mostly due to school and work getting in the way.) But I'm going to finish this one. Likely just 3 chapters. The shorter, the easier for me to finish. Let's go! This takes place in S1E3.**

 **Oh, and I also tend to just through-compose these without much editing or rereads so there may be mistakes. I don't particularly care. Well I mean, let me know if I didn't finish a sentence or something. That would suck.**

* * *

 **Bad Business**

Stepping into the radio station and pretending to be a hyper-techie was perhaps one of the most terrifying experiences of Elizabeth's life. Not only that, but she was walking into a practical death-trap with her only route out being a psychotic criminal whom she had assaulted not long ago. Someone she didn't trust to keep his word and certainly didn't trust with her life. Elizabeth's skin crawled as she was inspected for weapons and, on an unspoken level, for deceit. In this line of work, a small amount of deceit was implied-even expected-and she was wondered if there was some sort of device that could evaluate the radiation of anxiety, making sure she wasn't lying _too_ much. Elizabeth was sure they knew.

Elizabeth wasn't a trained field agent. She was a profiler. She could come up with a profile of Wujing in seconds: his childhood was without family, being a second born child in a land where they weren't supposed to exist. He rebelled as a young adult in an attempt to gain attention, signal to someone that he belonged wherever he chose. And a family he did find. But he wouldn't just live among street thugs. No, he would become better. Better even than the brother born before him who eliminated Wujing's connection to his parents. And he did become better, smarter, more deserving of praise. The Chinese government relied on him now, they owed _him_ favors and he wrung the system dry to take back what had been denied him. He likely gained paternal satisfaction when leading his team through difficult legal red tape. The team was important to him-something he probably would not admit the full extent of.

Elizabeth was damn good at profiling. Going under cover, not so much.

Red on the other hand was completely at ease. The stubborn security bulk's resistance to bending protocol might have frustrated him but Red simply found another way around. "So you went with the gray?" he asks the bulk, coming up with a slight distraction with no effort. Words naturally flowed out of him without misstep.

She was not comforted by his presence. What would stop Red from abandoning her if (she tried to avoid the idea of "when") they were caught? How simple would it be to leave her? "She is obviously compromised by the FBI. Do me a favor and get rid of her would you, Wujing?" No one would kill Raymond Reddington. But a miscalculation on her part could leave the new agent with a bullet in the head and no tears shed over the matter.

Elizabeth breathed in deep, counting to six very slowly.

Red pressed a hand to her back as he heard the air moving to and from her. She wished he would stay away and give her space to self-soothe. She didn't need him to remind her of the possibly disastrous situation.

As Red made criminal small talk, Elizabeth sat in front of the laptop and prayed that the device would work. All of the assurances in the world couldn't stop her heart's frantic beating. The pressure in her chest was growing. The screen filled with a cocktail of letters, numbers, and symbols that she'd be able to understand just as soon as she won the lottery.

Silence ensued and eyes turned to the screen. A name popped on it.

She ever so slowly released the breath she'd been holding captive in the back of her throat.

They had pulled it off.

And then everything went to shit.

Elizabeth's mind couldn't work fast enough. The scene unfolded before her just as confusing as the techno gibberish had appeared on the laptop. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to come up with something to remove the accusing eyes trained on her. Of course they had found out. People with computers found out everything.

When Wujing turned his attention on Jin Sun, this time she didn't let go of the relieved breath. She kept it inside, not allowing herself to think the danger had passed. Wujing raised the laptop above his head and Elizabeth thought she was about to see a man beat to death by the device that seemingly betrayed him.

"We have to do something," she said and took two steps forward. Red pulled her back easily.

"Quiet."

"We can't just let them do this."

Red was silent. He watched without interest. She hated him for it. The beaten man was innocent! Well, innocent of the supposed betrayal at least. Affiliating with and working for crime lords sort of tarnished your record. Did that mean Elizabeth was tarnished now?

Jin Sun squirmed on the concrete while fresh blood poured from his face. The sight made Elizabeth quiver, sickeningly grateful that it wasn't her.

And then Jin Sun saw it. The USB key to the mirroring program. The tiny black object that no one should have seen somehow came into the desperate man's field of vision. His brown, terrified eyes met hers. His mouth opened to point the blame. Her blood was about to join his. Both of their bodies would litter the ground.

Red had moved too fast for Elizabeth to stop him. The gun was in his hand before she could blink and the shots fired without a threat or care.

The gunshots echoed in her head. Elizabeth's jolted gasp swallowed the sounds and the taste of hot bullets in the air. It was a taste she wouldn't soon forget.

Red had killed a member of Wujing's team.

 _Shit, Red. Shit, shit, shit._

Wujing momentarily lost control as a subconscious thread was tugged on until it unwound the knitting that held his underground family together. Elizabeth saw a lifetime of resentment cross his features.

Wujing scrambled for a gun. The weight of danger returned. Elizabeth didn't want to cower behind him, but Red maintained a position slightly in front of her. Like a shield. He wasn't going to leave her, she realized. No matter what happened, no matter if a bullet came his way, Red wasn't going to let harm befall her. The realization settled over her like cool water and the fire lit on each of her nerves sizzled and was tamed.

"You kill one of my people," the armed man swayed on his feet slightly, "Now I have to kill one of yours." Perspiration dotted his brow.

"The moment he sent that message," Red began, moving subtly closer to Elizabeth, "He became worthless to you. You would have beaten him for another twenty minutes and killed him yourself. But if I let you kill a contractor of mine, I lose the trust of all my others and that's just bad business. So if you kill her, you better kill me." Red paused for three seconds the promise of death turned his gaze to razor-edged steel. "Or I'm going to kill you."

Elizabeth had forgotten rule number one of business: keep customers happy. Red would never abandon one of his contractors or clients. As he said, that was bad business. He would never have become the Concierge of Crime otherwise. She felt stupid for not trusting him to at least act as the puppet master he was.

For a few moments, Elizabeth felt cool to the touch. Calm. Steady. "You hired me to do a job. It's done. Now let's get out of here." Her voice didn't shake. She stared Wujing in the eye and felt nothing. The agent and the villain stood together with guns aimed at their vital organs. Both looked collected and in control. The balance of the room switched.

She swore she could feel Red smile behind the emotionless facade. His posture radiated pride. His "Lizzie" had learned something today after all.

* * *

The climb out of the compound made her legs ache. Not because she was unaccustomed to physical exertion, but because her muscles were tense the entire time. Her whole body would be sore tomorrow due to the stress-applied strain alone. The precious seconds of calm earlier evaporated as soon as she stepped around the corpse of Jin Sun. Blood clotted her sense of smell.

Red moved quickly but without fear. Again, he was at ease. Elizabeth realized he must have done this exact thing several times: escaping out of back doors, creating plans B-Z out of thin air and miraculously employing the correct one each time. For the first time, she was grateful he was there.

Jin Sun. Elizabeth quickly pushed his dying face out of her mind. For now, she was alive (so _alive_ ) and seconds away from regaining freedom.

Red repeated the gesture of placing his hand softly on her back. It felt like reassurance. A little push forward. Something that annoyed her thirty minutes ago now brought a small amount of peace. Red was there. Red had saved her. Red's smooth voice and electric mind had kept her alive. His plan B or Z or whatever meant she was still breathing and not buried below the earth.

A door opened.

The distant sound of cars and gentle pedestrian chatter contrasted with the noises previously contained in the small underground space where she heard the rustle of each person's movement and keyboard clatter.

The sun tingled on her face.

Red smiled.

A man was dead because of her.

* * *

 **You likey? You no likey? There's a little box down there somewhere that you can write in and tell me. Yah.**


	2. An Honest Answer

**So I got possibly the best review ever from a guest. Wish I could respond directly to you, wonderful human, but calling my writing some of the best in the Blacklist archive is...woah. Like dang. That was awesome. Thanks so much. I haven't pondered the Blacklist titles much (not like I scour the Phantom of the Opera ones. Haha that is my ultimate obsession by the way.) Thanks so much, Guest!**

 **I don't have the exact transcript of the episode so some things are different. But it's alright.**

 **You know how some people put playlists in the author's notes so you can listen to what they were listening to when they wrote the chapter? I've never actually followed along and done their playlist cause listening to music distracts me. But right now I've got An Alpine Symphony by Strauss plugged in (soon to be followed by Mahler's 2nd Symphony) and it's really beautiful so you should listen to it while you read. Or before. Or after. Just because it's a masterpiece.**

* * *

 **An Honest Answer**

"You really should invest in a vehicle that doesn't scream, 'I'm out to kill a CIA operative.' Now I realize big suburban muscle is what you go to for an illusion of safety, but you simply look up to no good emerging from a bunker in one of these."

Red was being chatty.

Wujing was sweating.

Security Bulk was driving with white knuckles.

And Elizabeth was trembling. Not instantly noticeable but enough for the person sitting next to her to be aware. She wanted to get out of the unmarked black vehicle right now and run back to the Post Office. Or home. All questions concerning Tom aside, collapsing in someone's arms and staring blankly at a wall sounded amazing. As soon as her feet hit the ground, anywhere _away_ was safety and she'd get there as quickly as possible.

"Interesting how the FBI and those who work against them prefer similar means of transportation. Boxy, gas-guzzling oafs. Me, I'll take a simple Mercedes any day."

Elizabeth couldn't believe he was back to chit-chat with the men who had guns pointed at them minutes ago. If pursuing every name on his list ended up with them in similar circumstances, eventually she too might be able to provide small talk with murderers. Wouldn't that be something.

She began to notice a spot of warmth on the side of her leg. Without moving her head down, she peered along the edge of her eye and saw that Red was subtly pressing his knee toward hers. The shakes traveling throughout her body collided with the heat and a tiny amount of security lowered her heart rate. She clenched her teeth. He knew people too well; he knew how inexperienced agents might find physical contact relieving after seeing someone shot to death five feet away from them. She was sure there were blood spatters on her shoes.

But finding comfort in the person who had shot said man to death was not something she anticipated.

Her clenched teeth ground together and found remnants of that cool sensation she'd experience when addressing Wujing. Running home to Tom would have to wait. They needed to get out of here without suspicion first.

But they also needed to capture Wujing.

Dammit, if this scene didn't belong in a movie. She'd pay to see an actor relive the trauma before she did.

"Anywhere in the shade is fine," Red said, positioning his hat lower over his eyes, brushed his pants to remove microscopic debris, and picked at this cuff links. So this is what criminals did before stepping foot into the normal world: they preened. It almost made Elizabeth smile. His knee pressed more firmly against her leg. Perhaps he was just as anxious as she to get the hell out of here.

The agent casually brought a hand to her shoulder, mimicked rubbing a sore muscle, and removed the location transmitter. The car stopped and she found a new home for the sticky patch on the exterior.

Red followed and together they waited a few moments while Security Bulk maneuvered the suburban back into traffic. At the same time, when they could no longer read the retreating license plate, both she and Red exhaled. He turned and smiled at her. "Well done, Lizzie. Unfortunately I'm afraid Wujing is going to disappear into another hole."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." So he hadn't seen her clever trick. Later when the Chinese man was arrested, she could gloat. For now, she felt lightheaded and not at all like running to the Post Office. In fact she just wanted to sit down. She squatted down with her elbows on her knees and face in her hands.

Red placed a gentle hand on her bowed head and a soothing sensation flowed over her skull like warm water. "Do get up, Lizzie. I have an appointment with a manufacturer later to discuss some illicit activities and I'd rather keep my punctual reputation if you don't mind."

"I'm sure Mr. Manufacturer can wait five minutes."

He chuckled. "You'd be surprised how many deals are lost each day due to five minutes."

She looked up, still resting on her heels. "Why? Another buyer gets to them early? Increases their offer to ten percent above yours?"

"Actually, they tend to end up dead or arrested." He removed his hand and offered it to help her up. "Safe zones are only safe for a minute amount of time."

Red opened the door to the black Mercedes that approached a few steps away and indicated for her to get in. Elizabeth nervously inclined her head to Luli inside. As much as she knew about Red, she perhaps knew even less about his personal security detail. Luli extended a tiny smile to her sometimes and Dembe was just as courteous as Red when it came to opening doors. That's more than she got from Ressler or Malik, though Elizabeth wasn't sure what to think about that.

Red settled in beside her. "Go ahead, Luli." The car blended in with those around it, lost in plain sight. The driver handed back a file and Red began flipping through the pages.

"Luli will take us to where Dembe's waiting with another car. From there, he can take you wherever you need. I'm sure Cooper will want to have storytime immediately, but I highly recommend a massage first. You seem very tense-"

"You didn't have to kill him."

Elizabeth zoned in on his cheerful face which had quickly turned to quiet apprehension. He closed the file and with a glance out the window, replied. "I believe I will always do whatever I feel I have to do to keep you alive."

"Why me?" she asked with exasperation.

He opened his mouth to answer but Elizabeth caught one upturned corner of his lips and knew he was going to avoid the question.

" _No._ I held up my end of the deal. Now it's your turn. Give me an honest answer, Red. You owe me this. _Why me?_ My life was turned upside down in a matter of hours when you showed up in your three piece suit and hat. I just had ten guns pointed at arteries guaranteed to quickly bleed out. Why did that just have to happen?"

"Oh now you're being dramatic! There were only seven and they were more tech rats than gunmen. They hardly know where an artery is, let alone how to hit one!"

" _Red_." Hearing his name spoke with such conviction caught his full attention. For a moment he looked like he wanted to devour the sound. "Why me?"

Red didn't look like he was struggling with the answer, but he chewed on it for a bit. How much could he reveal without actually letting anything go?

"Because of your father."

Her heart instantly feels heavy. "Did you know my father? Have the two of you met somehow?"

"I wish the answer were as simple as the question seems." Elizabeth sighed which prompted Red to add, "I share your frustration."

And that was it. She knew Red would say no more on the matter. Elizabeth leaned her head against the leather seat. There would be no use pushing Raymond Reddington. He told you _what_ he wanted _when_ he wanted and no sooner. Tight lips were his specialty. All of her energy drained, Elizabeth reset to default: profiling mode. It made her feel like a needle when she flicked the switch and it would be nice to not be the only one prickled today.

"You act like we're the same," she said, "You're wrong. I have a life, people who care about me. But you...this is all you have."

"I have you."

The words came out of Red's mouth with little thought, as if he'd been waiting to speak them for years. And perhaps he had. The three words moved through her skin and gave her heart a small pinch. Elizabeth's mouth went dry.

And what could she say to that?

The car stopped but Red's eyes never strayed from her face. _What did he want?_ Her fingernails dug into the seat leather for lack of something to do with the jolt in her body.

Elizabeth opened the door and took one last look at his still immovable expression. She couldn't understand the tight corners of his mouth, or the somewhat eager gleam in his eyes, or the way his upper body inched in her direction as she back out. Elizabeth didn't understand any of it.

So she left.

* * *

 **As always, there's the little box below to share thoughts. I'm about to take this next chapter into a non-episode related direction.**


	3. Submerge or Jump

**I finished chapter 2 and was in a good mood so I thought, "Why not write and upload _two_ chapters in one day?"**

 **You're welcome?**

* * *

 **Submerge or Jump**

Story time with Cooper wasn't nearly as fun as Red had made it sound. It was late by the time they finished with an initial interrogation of Wujing, debriefing Elizabeth by asking the same five questions reworded thirty different ways, and filing menial paperwork. She wondered when she'd ever been more tired before she remembering the evening Ranko Zamani stabbed Tom and how she'd stayed up the entire night thinking about illegal passports and guns and lies.

The houses in the neighborhood were dark silhouettes against a darker sky. Elizabeth wished she could adopt the life of someone sleeping in one of them. She could be the stern librarian next door who never forgave overdue books and Tom could be her landscaper husband. The little imaginary world entertained her for the remainder of the drive.

Tom often waited up for her on late nights, but even he was asleep when she arrived home. A small lamp was still lit beside the living room couch he was curled up on. Elizabeth deposited her bag carelessly on the floor and practically fell onto the couch beside him. She was bone-tired and just wanted to be held. The couch was softer than the leather in Red's Mercedes-but then again weren't couches supposed to be softer than cars? She giggled and Tom woke up.

"Oh, hey...What time is it?"

She took off the glasses askew on his face and relaxed as his arms came around her. "I don't even know. And don't care even more."

"Hard day?"

She sighed the memories away. "Something like that."

"Tell me about it," he played with her hair. His voice was still half-asleep.

Elizabeth reached over and turned off the lamp. Finally. No lights. She closed her eyes and kicked off her shoes.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"If I had a nickel for every time you used that line, I'd have retired in Florida by now. I could be coasting in the everglades, teaching fourth grade to alligators."

She knew he meant it as a joke. But her allocation of patience had been used up four hours ago. To stop the retort simply wasn't possible.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know, they have gators in Florida...I'm a teacher...funny?"

"No, the 'If I had a nickel' part." She pushed back from his chest a little to peer into the eyes made invisible by the shadows.

"I'm just saying you say that a lot."

" _I don't want to talk about it_? You know I can't talk about this stuff! It's my job!" Deficits in patience caused the excess in tension to mingle with anger. The fight was already started.

Tom tried to place his arms back around her. "Yeah, I know that. But you can tell me if you're scared or frustrated. Couples do that. Especially married ones."

Elizabeth jerked away. "Oh, so I'm supposed to relive an awful day just to make you feel more husbandly? I'm supposed to tell you that I _almost died_ , but it's okay because I won't tell you who was holding the gun?" She stood from the couch and watched the dark shape of Tom sit up.

"You almost died?! Liz, what the hell! Are you okay?" He reached for her and again, she allowed his hand to wrap around her wrist, testing the waters to decide if she wanted to submerge or jump out.

"Obviously I'm fine. I'm here, aren't I?" The edge was still there.

Tom turned the lamp back on. The neutral colors of the walls were supposed to be soft but after a day of computer screens and the shock of daylight, any light at all hurt. Tom stood up and she hated how much taller he was. It felt like an intimidation tactic.

"Liz, you have to stop this stuff. This isn't good-"

"So you want me to quit my job!" The water was too cold. She jumped out by ripping her hand away and turning to the window. The librarian and landscaper probably argued about vacuuming. They probably disagreed about who would change the litter box and then laughed when they realized how stupid of a thing it was to fight over. She hated them and didn't know why.

"That's not what I said." Now he was growling too.

"I work with bad people, Tom. It's part of my job to be in danger."

"No, you work with _agents_ ," she barked a laugh at that but he didn't question it, "In fact, you aren't even supposed to be out there. Your job was supposed to be sitting at a desk and analyzing data about people."

Fire blazed from her heels to the ends of her hair. She picked up the bag and stormed to the door. "I'm sorry that my job is actually more important than you assumed," Elizabeth threw over her shoulder. She waited for the exclamations of "I'm sorry!" and "Liz wait!" but none came. Not even the sound of feet walking toward her. What she _did_ hear was the door slamming shut once she left the house. In fact everyone else on the street probably heard it too.

Fine.

Elizabeth stormed off and for five minutes didn't know which direction the house was or notice that she was barefoot. Streetlamps were the only source of light along the road; the moon was hiding behind clouds which, combined with a roll of distant thunder could prelude a storm. Maybe even one strong enough to blow her own out.

She avoided the streetlamps. Not one part of her wanted to be exposed to brightness right now. She walked in the grass along an urban treeline, finally realizing that she had no shoes. The grass felt nice and ticklish against her feet so that at least provided no qualm. Everything was black. Everything was soft and cool. The chill felt good against a mind on fire.

All Elizabeth wanted was comfort. The moment she sunk onto the couch into solid arms had been wonderful. And then Tom...Tom...Sometimes it prickled that he didn't understand her world. It was as if they existed in opposite universes outside of their home. But that was the same case with everyone she knew except for the rest of the task force. And she was damn sure Ressler would not appreciate her knocking on his door at-she checked her phone-three a.m. Cooper didn't seem like the kind of person to offer hugs to sad agents either.

She sat down at the base of a tree, back to the road and feet curled underneath her. A few stars winked before getting eaten up by a cloud she didn't know existed beyond the absence of light.

A body in front of her, ready to stop bullets. A hand at her back, pushing her up an impossible amount of stairs. A leg touching hers, calming shudders.

She called Nick's Pizza.

He picked up after one ring.

"Lizzie?"

"Red...I..."

"Where are you?"

She cast a look to the empty sky. "I don't know."

"Are you hurt?" Elizabeth could she his eyes narrowing and hear his mind begin to race in those words.

"No. No, I...I couldn't stay home. Tom, he...he doesn't..."

She didn't know how to finish the sentence. What was it that Tom couldn't do for her? What had changed so suddenly in their lives that prevented them from connecting and communicating as they'd done easily for years? She could list individual reasons and they slowly added to one answer:

"Red."

"We're on our way to pick you up, Lizzie. Stay put." She didn't ask how he would find out where she was.

"Thank you."

"Have you ever been to Azerbaijan?"


	4. Richer Than Violet But Not As Dark

**Again we embark on our journey. I wrote this really quickly and again, I don't spend a large amount of time proof-reading. I'm really excited for the next chapter. Thanks for reviews. The more the merrier. This story is a tiny escape for me as we get into the holiday season and my job in retail becomes hell. So. Many. B-words. It's nice to delve into a heart-warming story about baby steps in a relationship.**

 **And deep blue is my favorite color.**

* * *

 **Richer Than Violet But Not As Dark**

"Have you ever been to Azerbaijan?"

Of course the answer was no. Elizabeth knew of the country by name alone and pictured it only vaguely in her mind as having a coast along the Caspian Sea. She hung up the phone and did just as Red said: stayed put.

Elizabeth was no longer seething by the time Dembe pulled up ten minutes later. She was trying to name constellations and having no success whatsoever. In fact, she was more coming up with her own. So far she had Winking Fox, Three People in a Tango, and Loaf of Bread. The International Astronomical Union would probably love her submissions.

The Mercedes announced its presence with little more than a gentle purr. She sat for a moment listening to it, eyes closed, and her head began to nod onto her shoulder.

"Lizzie," Red called from an open window.

"Hm?" She hummed.

"The leather seats in the car are much more comfortable than the dirt, I assure you. They're all heated at the moment and the warmth really does make one's bottom feel-"

"I'm coming," she shot onto her feet, "Just don't finish that sentence."

Red chuckled.

Elizabeth walked around the other side and pulled herself into the car. The warm seats _were_ inviting. She made eye contact with Dembe in the rear view mirror and they nodded at each other.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?" Red folded his hands neatly in his lap on top of a blue overcoat. It was a lovely deep blue color, she remembered thinking right before they had entered Wujing's compound.

Elizabeth was not about to explain the fight she just had with Tom to the man who pointed vague accusations at him in the first place. She could picture the smug expression and the cheerfully concealed I-told-you-so look. No, thank you. Not appealing. There were other things on her mind of course.

"Thank you for killing him."

This statement seemed to have sucked the air from Red's lungs. His posture fell a little. Elizabeth didn't notice though as her eyes were downcast. She couldn't believe the words were exiting her mouth. This whole thing was messed up: running from her husband into the luxury vehicle of a criminal, thanking the man for killing someone in front of her. When would life go back to normal?

"I realize...you did it to keep us alive. I couldn't have done it." Elizabeth rubbed her scar and spoke in a soft voice. "We would be dead right now if you hadn't taken the gun."

Red sighed and shifted in the black seat. "Well I can honestly say I've never been thanked for killing someone before. Except that one time in Zimbabwe." He glanced at Elizabeth. "It's a great story, if you'd like to hear."

"No thanks," she replied with a small smile.

They rode in companionable silence for a while. Dembe eventually turned on the CD player and a crooning voice filled the empty space. The heated seats really _were_ comfortable. This was nice. Elizabeth leaned her head against the window and watched the world speed past. By now they were outside the city and flat landscapes rolled by, shadows of trees breaking the monotony. The blueness of the sky was accented now while separated from the city. She really loved the color of deep blue: richer than violet but not as dark, mixed with blackness, devoid of sharp edges, all-encompassing, thick like a breath of humid air cooled by a thunderstorm. A particular color that settled rushing heartbeats.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To an airstrip."

"And then...?"

"Azerbaijan, one of the fastest growing economies in the world thanks to black gold."

Elizabeth scrunched up her nose in confusion. "Black gold?"

Red was taken aback. "Bubblin' crude? _Texas tea_? Have you never watched the Beverly Hillbillies?"

"Oil," she concluded with a nod.

"Yes, _oil_! Lord you need to be cultured," Red scoffed.

Elizabeth laughed. The jovial sound erupted from her throat and danced through her body. Her shoulders shook with it. Her mind reveled in the positive energy of ringing vocal cords. Red and even Dembe joined in with deeper chuckles. The music coming from the sound system mingled with the natural music of the human voice. It felt sort of like home: gentle, happy, light. If only every day could be bursting with these feelings. Elizabeth imagined coming home from work and finding the lights on, the smell of cinnamon dusting the air, a pair of silly house slippers waiting by the door, and the sound of small feet bounding down the stairs with a cry of "Mommy's home!" That is what everyday should feel like.

She wiped a tear away, still laughing. The scene in her mind didn't seem impossible just...as if it would only come to be when something in her life shifted. The path she walked wasn't wrong, but it wouldn't lead to the perfect home so easily imagined. Elizabeth looked at Red. Directly. Softly, but deeply. She knew the shift couldn't come now. Not with Red and his list of names. Already he was fully inserted in the hours between waking up and collapsing in bed. A day without the Concierge of Crime slipping a quirky anecdote into a conversation or staring with eyes full of answers she couldn't decipher-that she couldn't fathom.

"So," she began after recovering from the laughing fit. "You're going to Azerbaijan. Why?"

" _We're_ going. And I have tickets to a lovely concert at the Heydar Aliyev Center in Baku. I need a date."

"I can't fly across the world tonight, I have to be back at the Post Office in five hours."

Red tucked one corner of his lips to the side. "I'm giving you the day off. I'll call Harold tomorrow and let him know."

She wanted to interject that Cooper was the one in charge of days off and wasn't likely to offer one because Raymond Reddington needed someone to give an extra concert ticket to. But something silenced her. The atmosphere of the vehicle still vibrated with the memory of laughter.

"Tom..." she weakly began.

"Do you really want us to turn around so you can finish that argument with your husband?"

Of course he knew. A phone call at 3 a.m. reeked of dispute at home. Elizabeth chewed on her lip and was surprised to feel the touch of a conspiring smile. "Not really."

Red nodded. "You'll need a dress."

"Okay." Did she sound excited? She was anxious to be sure. And high on exhaustion, melted anger, and lingering joy. Maybe all those combined produced something like excitement. Whatever it was exactly, it painted her voice in bright colors and made Red grin-teeth and all.

"And shoes. You'll definitely need shoes."

Elizabeth turned her body to sit facing him with her bare feet occupying the middle seat. This was impulsive, this was a mistake. She should tell Dembe to turn around immediately and take her back home. She should apologize to Tom and fix the growing rift between them. She should do so many things differently. But she didn't _want_ to and Elizabeth tended to do what she wanted. Taking orders and obeying prescribed obligations wasn't her style. No, Tom would apologize to _her_ and only when she felt like listening. The agent twitched a bit when she thought, 'How very much like Red to be dedicated to only my timeline.'

Instead of complying with the _shoulds_ , she closed her eyes, listening with half a mind to the vocalist now dreamily singing about wishes and rainbows. Something soft came to rest on her feet and she cracked open one eye to see that Red had draped his overcoat over her legs. He motioned for her to relax and Elizabeth's last thought for a while was that she really, really liked deep blue.


End file.
